She started planning her June birthday party several months ago, and she talks about it intermittently. She started by dictating the (very extensive) guest list, a proposed menu, and entertainment. Periodically, she makes invitations or has me write them out. Usually I can distract her from the issue of actually mailing them, but sometimes she takes matters into her own hands; we had to install a lock high on the front door because she was sneaking to the mailbox and "mailing" her drawings, accented by random letters and numbers.
At the end of January, she dictated the most hilarious birthday invitations, which I transcribed as faithfully as possible on her big easel. I was laughing so hard I had tears rolling down my cheeks. Here are just a few of my favorites....
(Picture of a Dinosaur--Allyson Drew That, Not Me!)
No Slobber Cake
(Portrait of Our Dog Lola)
Games for the Geriatric Guests
I'll Just Leave a Message
More recently, Allyson planned an impromptu pajama party for just one very special guest: Uncle Rick. She laid out all her princess regalia and then crowed, "Everything is all ready for my pajama party!"
"Honey, I really don't think those princess costumes will fit Uncle Rick," I explained gently. I didn't add that he probably wouldn't come to a pajama party to begin with.
She wasn't fazed. "We have to make sure he knows about the party!"
"Uncle Rick is working right now. We can't call him, sweetie."
"That's okay. I'll just leave him a message." She trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen, stopping in front of the answering machine. (Are we the only family left who still has an old-fashioned answering machine instead of voicemail?)
From upstairs, where I was probably puttering on the computer, I heard the man on the answering machine say, "Answering is... OFF.... Answering is... ON." I could picture her randomly punching buttons.
Next I heard Allyson's voice, slow and clear: "This message is for Unka Rick. Please come to my pajama party. It's tonight. There will be cupcakes. And tea, but only pretend tea. We can wear my princess costumes. But you'll have to sleep on the floor because my bed is too little for you. Goodbye!"
I tried very hard to explain that the answering machine only takes messages, doesn't deliver them, but Allyson could not be convinced. She kept asking, "Do you think Unka Rick got the message?"
I guess he didn't because he didn't show up in his pajamas. Allyson didn't take it too hard, though. She just started planning her next big event: a Valentines party. (Valentines was already over, but that didn't bother her one bit.)
Maybe she'll be a party planner when she grows up. And then I can procrastinate all I want while she does all the work.